


Beer-thirty Driveway Quickies

by Blessedskies_turning



Series: Trouble Sons Extras/Cuts [1]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Don’t get ya hopes up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 10:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blessedskies_turning/pseuds/Blessedskies_turning
Summary: No, it’s not what you think.Practice safe sex’s guys!!!Or in which Enzo is drunk and the house is a mess.Somft





	Beer-thirty Driveway Quickies

Roman thought the house might have been more a curse than a blessing. 

Enzo and him were up stairs stifling through the cramped and overfilled attic. Enzo had already taken his jacket off and flug it to the dusty recesses of the room. He was rifling through a box, pulling out books and nick-nacks. All of which he messily tossed back into the box, then moved on. 

Roman settled for scanning the attic with his eyes, rather than his hands. Unlike Enzo, Roman was looking for something more specific. His room he realized was bear bones. 

Really the whole second floor was bear bones. There were a few area rugs rolled up and leaned against the walls, and a trash can in the bathroom. Not to mention the toilet paper roll holder. But other than that there was nothing. Roman had figured that there were beds hidden somewhere in the house considering the fact that there were four bedrooms and a large closet looking space. 

“Hey look!” Enzo shouted from somewhere Roman couldn't see. The attic had twisting and winding halls that you could use to walk through the walls of, things. He took the one in front of him and eventually found Enzo hunched over a book. 

“What?”

“It's a photo album.” Enzo said it like it was full of dead kittens. Leaning over Enzo’s shoulder Roman could see and picture of Enzo as a baby. No, his eyes were a dark brown. It was Patrick Abbot. It was weird to see’s Enzo face but not his eyes, or as Roman began to notice, his mouth. Enzo had diamond shaped eyes that glittered in the right light, and a mouth that had a perpetual lazy smile. But other than that all of Enzo sharp features were mirrored on his father as a child. Enzo was like broken glass, flashy and glittering in the right light. 

“Do you think we could send it to the press for money? We need beds.” Roman took the book from Enzo and caught and eye full of his grin. 

Enzo moved on. 

Roman decided to be more leisurely in his searching and go through some stuff too. He didn't think Enzo would mind. It’s not like much of this stuff was personal, or sentimental. All weekend they had cleaned up the house, and Roman never got the feeling from Enzo that he was being too nosey. 

For most Clarkston students, the time they had away from school must have been more fun. If you could count spending and absurd amount of time getting drunk or driving too fast on narrow roads. But for the two boys it was spent prying ridiculous amounts of plywood from windows, and finding creative ways to get rid of it. Which meant they cleaned out the fireplace. They also had a lot of white cloth. Which also gave them another reason to scoop ash from the fireplace.  
They also cleaned out the kitchen, running box-fulls of teacups, dishes, and other kitchenware to antique stores or the Goodwill. It meant vacuuming the cobwebs from the corners, and dusting off shelves. It meant making to trip there and back to the school to pick up the sad amount of their own belongings. It meant replacing light bulbs, and venturing under the house to turn on the water. It meant clipping the tree branches so they didn't claw at the car every time they left the driveway. It meant arguing over shower curtains and picking up sheets and pillowcases from Ikea even to return home and find that they had neither a bed nor a pillow. 

It meant making the house livable, and inhabitable for teenagers. 

Roman was moving on to another box when he saw a mattress leaned against on of the attic beams. However there was sea of junk between him and it. 

“Enz! Will you come help me?” Roman shouted over his shoulder. 

“Sure!” Enzo called back. Roman could hear Enzo shuffle, trying to get through the maze that was the room. He heard a small crash and a muffled “fuck” chased it’s tail. Then Enzo said a little louder, “bitch.” there was a large crash that Roman could feel echo in his heart. 

“You okay?” Roman started down to where he heard Enzo’s noises. He turned the corner and saw him on his back clutching his elbow, a knee high Santa sculpture underneath his legs. Santa’s bright red cheeks matched Enzo’s. Roman laughed, and smiled, and then keeled over. He was grabbing at his stomach from laughing so hard. 

Once he cleared the water from his eyes he saw an angry Enzo glaring up at him. In one stiff movement Enzo swiped Roman’s leg out from underneath him and sent Roman headed to the ground. 

Enzo let out a cackled just as loud as Roman’s large body hitting the floorboards.“How do you feel now?” Enzo turned to look at Roman, who by now had flipped over onto his back. They were positioned so Enzo just ended up studying Roman’s heart shaped mouth. 

Through gritted teeth and squinted eyes Roman said. “Not as bad as you must, Santa didn't trip me.”

Enzo hit Roman chest. Then he jumped up and kicked Santa off to the side. After quickly dusting over he leaned over Roman and smiled that razor smile. “What did you wanna show me?” His brown locks falling to shadow his face in the small amount of light. With Enzo’s help Roman stood up and led Enzo to the prize. 

They found another bed and by the time their rooms were finally set up the sun had set. Enzo had decided that to celebrate and “give thanks” they would drink. He was also convinced that Roman would have to teach him how to properly celebrate, since he missed out on those things growing up. But for now he would teach Roman how to celebrate “the Abbot Way”. When Enzo pulled a six pack out of the fridge and held it up in Roman’s face all Roman did was raise an eyebrow. 

“Dude, we’re seventeen.” He said pushing the bottles away.

Enzo scoffed and set the case down on the counter, “So? It’s a holiday.”

“But this is not how one celebrates, and also what holiday did I miss growing up?” Roman swatted a hand at the beer Enzo offered to him. 

“Then how do you celebrate Palayo?” 

Roman made a questionable gesture with his hands, “y-you eat! Or talk to family!” 

“We’re talking,” Enzo paused, “and anyways this is made with wheat right? So technically we are eating.”

“Was your childhood that shitty?”

Enzo shot Roman a glare that answered the question quite clearly. “If you want to celebrate ‘right’ so much then why don't you call your brother?” Enzo offered the drink one last time. 

Roman took the beer. 

“Exactly.” 

Turns out Enzo couldn’t hold his his alcohol. He ended up in a pile of blankets by the fireplace, happily and messily munching on pretzels and M&Ms. Roman was lounging on the floor, elbow propping him up and hand loosely holding his drink. He didn't like drinking all that much. Really it was because he didn't see the point, beer didn't taste good to him and being drunk was more of a hassle than it was a party. Especially if it wasn't legal for you. So Roman hadn't even touched his beer. 

“Ss-you know,” Enzo said turning to point a finger directly in Roman’s face, “why clowns are so scary?”

“No.” Roman said grinning. “Tell me.” 

“Well…” Enzo managed to stand, his blankets falling to a messy mountain concerningly close to the flames, and food spilling across the floor. Roman eyed the lost pretzles and candy disdainfully, he could feel the broom screaming his name from the pantry. “Bitch,” Enzo said watching a few of the M&Ms roll across the carpet. “Anyways! Well it’s because clowns are really just an exaggerated version of the person's personality and since we humans are so smart,” he tapped his temple with a unsteady finger, “if the clown is actually not a very nice or funny person our brains subconsciously pick up on that and scream RED FLAG!” He jumped onto the couch for this part. 

Roman adrimed him, in his wild ways. Enzo was a beacon in the orange light. He was bright and glittery, flashing a smile and yelling into the cold abyss like it would answer him. 

Roman jumped up, clambering to the couch. He wanted to see the world way Enzo saw it, a giant neon sign glowing in the dark and rainy night. He wanted to feel that addictive rush he always saw hidden in the blue glow of Enzo’s eyes or the pink color of his lips. What secrets did his freckles hold, what knowledge did his dimples have? How did Roman know them?

Once Roman joined Enzo in standing on the cushions Enzo looked him over. When their eyes met again Roman saw Enzo expression catch fire. He practically fell off the couch, then dashed into the kitchen, where Roman could hear distant rustling. 

“What are you doing?” Roman called, leaning down to grab a blanket and pull it over his shoulders like a cape. Again he was ten running around his parents house, foam sword in hand and Vincent meeting his bright smile with his own. 

Enzo didn't answer, instead he slid into the living room on socked feet. Barely missing the sharp corner of the buffet on the wall. He was pinching Roman’s keys in his fingers. He didn't even wait, just violently flung open the door and marched outside. 

Roman followed, taking the time to slip his shoes on. When he got outside and met the frigid air, Enzo was by the passenger side door. He miled childishly and waited next to the door quietly. Roman could feel the impatient hum beneath Enzo’s skin as he paused on the steps. His face was round and puppy like.

“What the hell?” Roman asked. 

Enzo’s expression dropped and was replaced by a toothy grin, “it’s call spontaneity BITCH!” 

“You really like that word, don't you?” 

“Yes, now would you be so kind as to drive in your sober way and get me food?” Roman, sighed and then went to his car door. Enzo was a mystery. It seemed like it would remain like that. As Roman pulled the car out onto the road Enzo cranked the music up. Apparently he knew the song, because he blared the lyrics slightly off key. Roman barely kept the car straight with how much he was laughing. Enzo seemed to feed of his energy and proceeded to roll the window and hang out of the car, still belting the words. When a loud guitar solo came on he air guitared it and pumped his seat in time to the beat. 

When the fast food sign flashed in the windshield, Roman turned the music down and hauled Enzo back into the car. Enzo was wearing his best smile for the occasion. They ordered, Enzo handed his card over to Roman and they pulled into line. 

“Jesus christ, why is the line so long?” Enzo said moving to glare at the tahoe in front of them. 

Roman pointed at the clock, “beer-thirty.” 

Enzo let out a sharp cackle again, then fell deep into his seat to watch the line. Up ahead of them they watched the cars, Roman tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and Enzo hummed early 90’s pop. 

“Holly mother of…” Enzo suddenly leaned forward. His eyes traced the car in front of him, pupils blown wide and mouth dropping to hang open. 

“What-oh! Oh!” Roman turned just in time to see the passenger in the car in front of them climb on top of whoever was driving the tahoe. “Shit,” Roman said matter of of factly.

“Are, are they gonna fuck in the fast food drive way at beer-thirty?” Enzo said eyes still intense on the car.

“Wanna join them?” Roman punched Enzo’s arm.

Enzo looked quite offended. Then he switched back to a smile, but this time it was more smug and worried Roman a bit. “Got a condom on you?” 

Roman was suddenly confused by this. Both by why Enzo would need one and why he’d think Roman would have them. “No-why exactly do you need one? I'm concerned, are you having sex?” This last part was said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. 

Enzo let out a huff and his reached into his wallet, plucking a shiny square foil out he said. “I don't know how old this is but it’ll do.” Before Roman could regain speech he opened the door and practically ran over to the driver side of the tahoe. Roman could hear him yell, “practice safe sex!” as he flung the condom into what was a presumably open window. 

Enzo ran back to the car laughing maniacally. 

Roman just stared at him. 

Enzo was a something else.


End file.
